Page 56 of The Summer House
“Are you afraid because of the press? I could sort of tell, Callie, but I thought we’d gotten over all that.”
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to do. She just stood there, her mind empty.
Luke’s face came into view. “That’s what it is, isn’t it?” he said. “You actually believe what you’ve read about me. And now… Now that I know you better, and I see how private you like to be, I’ll bet you’re worried the press will hound you too.” He scratched his face in thought. Then, in a whisper, he said, “I can’t believe that you trust the media over me.” He let the words hang in the air between them, his pain written all over his face.
She could see how hurt he was by this idea, and it was killing her. He was so wrong but what else was he supposed to think? She shook her head.
“If you believe them, then you do. I’m not going to try to beg you to listen to me, Callie. I fell for you in a big way, and I was willing to give you all my trust, but if you can’t do that, then I guess we’re at an impasse.”
She could feel him pulling away, and it terrified her. That, coupled with the overwhelming sadness she felt about the fact that he thought she couldn’t trust him over the papers, made her tear up. “Idotrust you,” she blurted as he headed over to his side of the car. He stopped and turned around. “There’s a reason I’m struggling right now and it has nothing to do with you and me specifically.”
He walked back over to her. “Then what is it, Callie?”
“I… Can’t tell you.”
He took in a deep, short breath. “You can’t tell me,” he spat. “You just said you trust me but you can’t tell me.”
Defeat in her eyes, she said slowly, “I’ve learned a secret that could literally change everything. It’s so big that I was willing to not see you to keep from having to tell you.”
“Look. I think you and I are great together. But we can’t move forward until you can be honest with me. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” His blue eyes bore down on her.
Her hands began to tremble, and her chest felt cold and hollow. “I don’t know…”
He tipped his head back in frustration, and it felt like she was losing him. The angry, gray sky above them seemed to echo her feelings. She didn’t blame him. How would they ever move forward unless she told him? She had two choices: tell him and hopefully work through it or lose him. But was that being selfish? He was asking her, but did he really want to know?
“You aren’t who you think you are.” The words floated between them as if they weren’t hers.
Luke’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”
“I know where you got your artistic talent from.” Her whole body froze, and she had to will herself to keep going. There was no going back now.
His face crumpled. “What do you mean?”
She took a steadying breath. “Remember Frederick McFarlin?”
“Yes?” A group of people who had just parked walked past him but his eyes never left hers.
“He’s Alice McFarlin’s brother. The woman who used to own our place.” Her stomach ached but she pressed on. She’d want someone to tell her if she were in his position. “I found a journal of Alice McFarlin’s; it had entries about a boy who didn’t know his father.”
Luke was still, his face neutral.
“That boy turned out to be someone I know. And Frederick McFarlin—theartist—is his father.”
Skepticism slid across Luke’s face. “What are you trying to say, Callie?”
Callie swallowed.
“You think that some artist guy who gave up his kid is my actual father and you know this because I have a talent for art?”
“That’s notexactlywhat I’m saying. But what if I told you that he drew a pencil sketch of a woman and her little boy on the beach in Corolla. A woman who liked to take her little boy there.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m not crazy, Luke. Frederick knows you’re his son. You said yourself that your mom took you to that beach. Do you remember a man talking to your mother on one of those visits? Or how about the day you dropped a baseball in the street and Alice McFarlin picked it up for you? She mentioned that your birthday was October twentieth… Why do you think you kept seeing her at all your events as a child? She was your aunt.”
His eyes had a slight panic in them. “Callie, I need you to stop and think about what you’re implying. You’re implying that my mother was unfaithful to my father and that I am not a blood relative of the man who raised me my entire life. Get a good handle on this before you go any further.”
The fear in his eyes rattled her—he’d always been so sure of himself. She wanted to put her arms around him and make everything okay but she knew she couldn’t do anything to fix this or to change it. All they could do was face it.
